Searching for Love, Sleeping with Danger
by Silver Moon Vampiress
Summary: Still reeling from the recent loss of her fiancé Luke, Kagome thrusts herself back into the world of love with little success. That is, until she meets a specter from the past that turns her world upside down. Can she trust him enough with her life, and her heart? Revision of In Shackles complete with a totally revamped plot. Read & Review! Ch. 1 & 2 Re-posted. Ch. 3 on its way.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Finally after months of wrestling with this chapter, it's up at last. It's been such a long time since I've published anything here that I kind of went back to the first time I'd ever published here. I was paralyzed with the fear that the story that I'd devoted time and energy to wasn't good enough. But after extensive editing, I realized I had nothing to worry about. I love this story, and that's enough for me. Well, in any case enjoy, and as always, please leave a review. Constructive criticism is much appreciated. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha, and in no way make money from the production of this work of fiction. It's for entertainment purposes only.

 **Searching for Love, Sleeping with Danger**

Chapter 1

I was pretty certain contemplating self-harm on a first date was a bad sign; a very bad sign.

I forced a smile onto my face, dredging up what I hoped sounded like a genuine laugh, while resisting the urge to sigh, and roll my eyes. If I had to endure one more corny joke about work, I'd be out the door faster than he, Saito Mitsuragi,could say my name. My eyes dropped to my plate, which was mostly full of food, and frowned, poking the remnants of grilled salmon and steamed vegetables.

He ran a hand through his gelled hair, lights shining on his dark tresses, giving it the odd look of being white in some places. He laughed to himself, returning his attention to his platter of assorted sushi rolls, picking one up with ease with his chopsticks and popping it into his mouth. He chewed it vigorously, strong jaw working on it until he swallowed, adam's apple bobbing. I adjusted the spaghetti strap of my black dress, and stared down at my nearly untouched food, trying to combat feelings of envy.

I'd arrived at the restaurant hungry, yet somehow, I'd lost my appetite over the space of 40 minutes. And the cause of my sudden loss of appetite sat across from me, none the wiser. I resisted the urge to glower at him for ruining what I was certain would've been a delicious dinner, at least judging from the smell and presentation alone and instead settled for tapping my foot.

I was counting down the minutes until I would finally be free of this travesty, when my foot accidentally bumped his. Saito jerked upright in his seat, and shot me a surprised glance, eyes darkening briefly in response to the contact. I stifled a frustrated groan, realizing that he must have thought I was playing footies with him. Saito's look alone made me squirm in discomfort. If he honestly thought he was getting to second base, he was sorely mistaken.

I was just about to open my mouth to right this misunderstanding when our waitress came by to replace our empty glasses with filled ones. The opportunity was lost in the space of 30 seconds, and I didn't see any reason to bother with clarification. Instead, I directed my attention to the people milling about trying to latch onto snatches of conversation that held far more promise than the ones I'd been suffering through as of late. The cacophony of noise—children crying, men and women sharing laughs over a glass of wine, the clink of cutlery on white ceramic plates and the ding of a service bell—distracted me from my predicament, but only momentarily.

The ebb and flow of sounds seemed to soothe my sour mood, that is, until Saito's voice shattered my inner calm.

"Would you like dessert, Kagome? They have quite a selection."

He pushed the menu towards me, and I looked from the colorful depiction of ice cream sundaes, brownies dipped in fudge, and extra-large cookies topped with a generous dollop of vanilla ice cream, to his face. I resisted the urge to cringe at the hopeful gleam that shone like a beacon in the swirl of darkness of his eyes. No way. Let me rephrase that: no way in _hell_ was I going to agree to spend another 15 minutes with him. I forced a smile, which was little more than a hasty baring of teeth, and threw my hands up in defense, before patting my stomach, as though full of the food settled on the plate.

"No, I'm fine."

He frowned, pushing the menu even closer to me. "Are you sure? You might regret it . . ."

The only thing I regretted right now, was ever agreeing to this date.

 _Note to self: refrain from indulging in pity dates fueled by desperation_.

The results: purely disastrous.

Saito shot me a cheesy grin meant to persuade. I returned the gesture, but I knew there was firm edge to it that said, 'Push me again and see what happens.' I shook my head once just in case my smile gave him the wrong idea.

He looked about ready to try again, when our waitress circled back to us to clear our table.

"How was everything?" She offered what I believed to be a genuine smile, one that seemed to lighten the mood between Saito and me.

"Wonderful," I said, smoothing my hands along the table's varnish.

"Indeed," my date said from across from me.

"Would you like dessert, or the check?" Our waitress—her name was Nancy, I realized as I glanced briefly at her name tag—pulled a pad and pen from the deep pockets in her black apron and held them poised, chest-level, awaiting our order.

"Check, please!" Those two words burst out of me in a rush fueled by my need to beat my date to the punch. Knowing him he'd request dessert just to trap me into spending more time with him. I didn't want that; not in the least.

An awkward pause followed my outburst—which I hadn't meant to come out so stentorianly—and I tried to smooth things over by smiling and tacking on another "please." All sounds seemed to still around us, and I felt several pairs of eyes upon me. Maybe I was a bit louder than I thought.

"Coming right up," Nancy said, and off she sauntered with our plates.

I sighed in relief as conversation continued as though it hadn't been interrupted, and turned apologetic eyes to Saito.

"Sorry about that. I really am pretty full. Lunch was a little heavier than normal, and I'm not looking to gain any extra pounds."

 _That's if you considered a few celery sticks filling._

I resisted the urge to hunch over a roiling stomach, hoping that he couldn't hear it churning. If everything worked out in my favor, my explanation would serve two purposes: 1) to explain my sudden loss of appetite and 2) to cover the enthusiasm with which I asked for the check. Even though this had to be one of the worst dates I'd ever had the misfortune of suffering through, I still felt the need to preserve Saito's feelings in any way I could. We were co-workers after all, and depending on how things went for the remainder of the night, the workplace dynamic between us might be severely altered. No pressure, right?

He grinned, obviously feeling much better about pressing me for dessert, before waving off the whole thing.

"No big deal. I'm pretty full myself," he said, leaning further back into his seat. "Besides, it's probably a good thing we declined the offer for dessert. Thing is . . ."

He trailed off, eyes dropping to the table, his face flushing beneath the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights above. I waited for him to continue, almost certain of what he was getting at. Well, if this wasn't a kick in the gut? The cheapskate wanted to go Dutch, and on a first date no less! Bad impression. He made up some excuse about forgetting his wallet at home and only having X amount of cash on him, but I'm hardly paying attention. I still couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that he had forgotten his wallet AND that he didn't have enough cash on him to pay for our dinner, an outing he had insisted upon.

" . . . I assure you that next time I'll pay everything in full."

He shot me a sheepish grin that I returned with a prickly quirk of lips. I was certain, without a doubt, that there would be no next time. Once we had settled the bill, we stood to leave. I, of course, still in the fuming mood I was in, decided it might be best to mentally prepare myself for our 15 minute car ride to my house. My head was filled to the brim with scathing remarks, and not-so-nice things I could say to him about this date and about him, but I had to keep it all locked away. Even if I was planning to let him down easy at the end of tonight, I didn't want to stir up animosity between us that might carry over into the workplace. Since I couldn't ditch him and go home solo (Damn Souta for needing to borrow my car tonight of all nights!), I decided the best course of action was to make an excuse to be alone. And what better way to get some much needed privacy than to slip away to the Ladies' Room?

"Ready to go, Kagome?"

"Not yet. Just need to freshen up. I won't be long. I'll meet you at the entrance."

And with that, we went our separate ways, with him walking at a steady gait toward the front entrance of the restaurant, and I cutting a warpath to the back of the restaurant, eyes locked onto my destination. I hadn't anticipated running into a literal wall of flesh. At the pace I was going, I was surprised I hadn't teetered precariously on my black stilettos, before promptly hitting the floor. No, the person I had so rudely slammed into prevented that with one hand at my left elbow and the other at the small of my back. I allowed my eyes to open a crack when I didn't impact with the carpet below, and a second later I looked up into the eyes of my captor.

My heart dropped into my stomach; I was completely mesmerized by the deep, intensity of this stranger's eyes. They were a warm color, one I couldn't really put my finger on; they weren't brown, but a much richer, and more exotic. It took me a moment to pinpoint the hue—crimson, his eyes were crimson, a deep, deep crimson—and just as quickly for me to dismiss the idea altogether and blame it on my delights of fancy. I mean, come on. _Crimson_? What in the world made be believe that? Sure, the guy could be wearing contacts, but I chalked it up to it being a trick of the light, nothing more. He had nice, brown, _normal_ eyes.

And yet, they drew me in, hypnotized me like no other, which might have been why I allowed him to hold me for far longer than was deemed appropriate. To onlookers we might have appeared to be two lovers locked in an embrace, scant, inconsequential inches and intermingled breaths away from kissing. Man, I wish that were the case! I blushed and withdrew, mourning the loss of contact and what could never be. Was it wrong for me to wish his pale, slender hands upon me, and to long for the rippling of firm muscles beneath clothed skin pressed to my own in intimate contact? I think not.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

I didn't want to risk the chance of falling victim to his spell, so I kept my gaze averted. I felt his eyes on me, and I stiffened, resisting the urge to look up.

"You're welcome," he said, and I nearly melted.

His voice sounded so good—so good, in fact that I nearly looked up, just to catch a glimpse of the lips that spoke those two, delicious words. I didn't, and with much willpower turned and fled the scene. The privacy of the restaurant bathroom gave me some much needed space, and a heaping helping of solace to contemplate why I was here in the first place.

Desperation, though I was afraid to admit it, was partly why I found myself on a date with Dr. Saito Mitsuragi, whom I'd found so little in common with. The other part was because I wanted to prove to the world that I was over _him_. It happened the third time he'd asked, and I was geared up to tell him no for the final time and be done with it. And I did at first, but when Asami heard this, she opened my eyes to what I was missing.

"C'mon, Kagome! He's a sweet guy, he's persistent—"

"Don't you mean annoying?" I quirked a brow, before stuffing a bit more salad into my mouth.

The two of us sat alone at a waist-level countertop in the staff cafeteria, indulging in a much needed break from the hustle and bustle of everyday hospital work in the lab. I'd just finished declining Saito's date request, and I was more than a little irritated with the fact that he couldn't seem to take no for an answer. Asami considered it romantic; I classified it as a nuisance. I swiveled in my stool, pushing around the contents of my food, deeply regretting sharing Saito's most recent attempt to get me to go out with him with her.

"No, I mean _persistent_."

Asami jabbed my side with a bony elbow, and took a hearty bite of her club sandwich. Dusting invisible crumbs from her hands, she rotated on her stool so she was facing me, fixing me with green eyes that held a level of seriousness I could not ignore. She kept staring at me until the weight of her gaze forced me to look at her. I focused my attention on a spot above her short mop of brown hair, bracing myself for what was to come.

"Kagome, you have no other prospects going for you. Can you honestly tell me you want to live out the rest of your life devoted to a memory?"

The words struck too close to home, and I sagged in my seat, hoping to defend against the onslaught of painful images that always assaulted me whenever someone mentioned _him_. Asami reached across the marble surface and gave my free hand a gentle squeeze; it was warm and provided some protection against the chill of the past.

"Look, I'm sorry to come off so harsh. I didn't mean to."

She averted her eyes for a moment, just as I turned my gaze upon her, before quickly returning it to my face.

"All I want is for you to be happy, and I'm sure Luke would want the same. You can't live your life in the shadow of his memory forever."

I set my fork down then and laid my other hand on top of hers. "I know."

As much as I wanted to remain true to Luke and the life we shared before his tragic passing, a part of me also longed for a taste of that happiness I once had. So I agreed, and look at what it brought me. I mean, sure, I wasn't expecting to hit things off tonight, but even still, I wasn't anticipating enduring the worst date of my life. How unfair. The least I could've gleaned from this night of hell was maybe a few genuine laughs and a good time, but I guess that was too much to ask for given the circumstances.

Well, such is the hand that had been dealt me, and to contest it was truly an exercise in futility. Taking in a hearty gulp of the Glade Plug-in-scented air, I steeled my features in preparation for a car ride I could honestly do without. Why did I have to lend Souta my car today? Obviously, I didn't contemplate the possibility that things could go south otherwise I would have kept my car as an escape option. No sense in kicking myself now; the sooner we left the sooner I could curl beneath my sheets and forget any of this night ever happened.

After washing my hands (stalling, who me?) I reentered the restaurant, eyes darting about my surroundings in search of my date. But in all honesty, I was really looking for the mystery man that saved me from a painful rendezvous with the floor. If only I had met that man first, then maybe this night would have turned out differently. People started to give me strange looks as I walked by, and I realized that I was making my desperate search far too obvious. It took every ounce of effort I had just to steer my eyes forward and keep them there. I waved to Saito, plastering on a smile that could almost pass for a genuine one to those witnessing the exchange.

My muscles tensed as I drew nearer to him. In that moment, I dreaded that I would have to spend another 15 minutes with him in close, private quarters. It was enough to make my skin crawl. But I would endure, and soon I would be climbing up those steps to the Shrine, putting an end to this dreadful night. All I had to do was control my urge to run. Quite a struggle that.

"You alright," he asked, when I was within arm's reach.

"Yup."

 _Would be even better if I were home right now . . ._

He held out his arm, and I took it, though reluctantly. He must not have noticed me cringe prior to making contact, because he smiled down at me with such radiance. I had to admit, he had a nice smile at the very least. That's more than I could say about his personality. Too bad; if only he could keep his mouth shut, and his shoddy humor to himself, maybe we could have hit it off?

"Shall we," he said making an attempt at chivalry.

I smiled despite myself, nodding to him in consent. "We shall."

The walk to the car was brisk and silent. Relief washed over me as I secured my seatbelt and settled my purse onto my lap. Just two more awkward exchanges remained—this car ride and the walk to my front door— and I would be home free. We were off as soon he was buckled up, the smooth glide of pavement beneath tires the only sound filling the darkness around us. Guess he wasn't much for small talk, just corny jokes. I shifted in my seat, eyes cast out to the storefronts with their neon lights flashing like a beacon to beat back the shadows that filled downtown Tokyo.

I squirmed once more, cleared my throat unconsciously, and quickly realized that I was very uncomfortable with the silence. Although I'd spent the better half of the night dreading any form of conversation with him, I really didn't want to spend the remainder of the night twiddling my thumbs; it wouldn't make the time go faster. As much as I wanted fill the car with chatter, I didn't know what to talk about. All this eerie hush surrounding us was making me wish for the cacophony of noise that engulfed us back at the restaurant. Thinking back, it was the only thing that saved us from devolving into awkwardness, and it made me realize just how little we had in common after all. Why on Earth did I agree to this?

We were about another 7 minutes away the Shrine, and the purr of the engine and whir of the tires on the pavement was starting to grate on my nerves, settling into a tight knot between my shoulder blades. I had to break up this monotony somehow, and what better way than with mindless small talk; I just needed to come up with safe, common topics that we could both engage in to fill the time it would take for us to arrive at our destination—my home. I figured the restaurant was a good place to start. I sat up straighter and turned as far as my seatbelt would allow, so that his profile was in clear view.

"So, what did you think of the restaurant?"

He kept his eyes on the road as he said, "Great. The food was good and I liked the homey atmosphere. The sushi platter was especially good."

At the mention of food, my stomach growled in protest, longing for the full spread I'd left nearly untouched. A trip to the fridge before bed was definitely in order if I had any intent on sleeping peaceably tonight.

"Yeah. It's my favorite place to eat," I said, smiling in memory of the good times I'd had there.

"Maybe we could go there again sometime." He looked at me then, when we sat waiting for the light to change, that brilliant smile once again plastered onto his handsome face.

I bit my tongue as the word 'no' threatened to spill from my lips. I would never consider a second date with him, not if he was the last man on Earth. The fact that he thought we were compatible in any way was nothing short of ridiculous. His subtle hint at a possibility of seeing one another again just cinched the idea that we were not on the same page; apparently we were both on two different dates tonight. What he found to be a deep connection was really a fluke, a misunderstanding in my eyes. Now I'd have to find some way to let him down easy, adding just enough force so that he knew I meant business.

Insist too much and I ran the risk of ruining our professional relationship at work. If I teetered around the subject, he would think there is still hope, and that's something I could not stand for. How did one crush the hope of future intimate exchanges without destroying the tender bud of friendship just peeking up from the soil? Hell if I knew . . . But I had to try for the sake of my sanity.

"Yeah . . ." I said, struggling with the words to tell him exactly what I thought of that notion.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, and was I fine with that. Anything that I could have possibly thought of to say to him, no doubt would have been diverted to hints at seeing each other again. I didn't want that any more than I longed to spend the rest of my days alone. We pulled up at the base of the hill that led to the Shrine, and I was none too subtle with my enthusiasm. I had my seatbelt undone and was out of the car and onto the pavement faster than he could cut the engine and do the same. Maybe I could get out of having him walk me to my front door. To say I was eager to be alone was an understatement.

"Well . . . goodnight," I said, eyes cast up the steep incline of stairs.

"Not quite. I think the gentlemanly thing to do would be to walk you to your front door, don't you think?"

Again with that broad, disarming smile; it was rapidly losing its charm. I stiffened, but in the dark that hung around us, I knew he couldn't make out my change in posture. I surely hoped he didn't notice the flash of pain that shot across my features before melting away into a blank expression. What I wouldn't give to decline his offer and walk myself. I was fully capable.

Plastering on a thin-lipped smile, I nodded, not trusting my mouth to give an appropriate response. From the corner of my eye, I saw him offer his arm, but I pretended not to see it, and instead climbed the first pair of stairs, before turning to face him.

"Shall we," I said, mimicking his chivalrous phrase.

He nodded curtly then joined me, all evidence of his radiant expression gone. We started our way up at a pace I was none too comfortable with, and I struggled to keep abreast of him. My muscles bunched with the effort not to bound—heels and all—to the very top, clearing the distance to my front door without a backward glance. It was partly because I didn't want to be rude, and mostly because my dress was just a wee bit short for my tastes and I was not in the business of flashing men on bad first dates. He didn't deserve the show anyway. My thighs were ablaze with cramps, and all I could imagine as we mounted the last of the stairs were my cushy pair of pajamas, a long hot shower, a half-eaten container of Ben and Jerry's Rocky Road ice cream, and, of course, my bed.

After what seemed like ages, we reached my front door. A minute longer and I would have perished from muscle fatigue. Looking at him now, I almost wished I had. As we strolled across the grounds to my house in the distance, I realized that though the night was coming to a close, it wasn't quite over yet; in fact, the worst was yet to come. Now was the time for me to squash his hopes of there ever being a thing between us, and, in all honesty, I was eager to avoid this inevitable reality at all costs. Not because I wanted to spare his feelings, though that was part of it. I just didn't want to endure that awkward moment when I shut him down, and an awful silence ensued, with discomfiting eye contact that would make even the most callous of all squirm. Worse than that was the fact that tomorrow, no matter how much I set out to avoid him, I would see him, and the awkwardness would continue from there on, shrouding our strained relationship. And all of this from a single night of regret and discarded feelings.

Before I knew it, we were at my door and the moment of truth; there was no way to get out of it now. We stood with a respectable amount of distance between us, me swaying in my heels and keeping my eyes averted elsewhere, and he with his gaze fixed steadily on my face. It held a weight to it that I could feel like a caress along my skin; it was disconcerting to say the least. A moment more passed, the wind, the sound of nearby crickets and the distant thrum of the city's nightlife the only signs of life. He stepped closer, his shadow melding with mine. I looked up eyes level with his chest at first, before I craned my neck in search of his gaze. His eyes were dark and tempting, but my body didn't so much as stir at the heat and want on display there. He wanted me, but the fact of the matter was I could not, and would not, reciprocate.

I took a step back, relishing in the rush of air that settled in the space between us, creating an intangible barrier. I hoped he'd get the message from that reaction alone, but such was my luck, he didn't, and instead stepped in close once more, only this time I stopped him with a hand on his chest. Heat warmed my palm at the contact, drawing sweat from my pores. I withdrew my touch just as quickly, regretting ever touching him, and equally afraid that he might get the wrong idea; I had to set the record straight before things spiraled out of control. Thankful for the darkness that blanketed the Shrine I wiped my palm on the hem of my dress and took a firm step back, offering a small smile.

Before he could mistake this gesture as playing coy, I said, "I really had a nice night . . ."

"I did too."

The gap was closed again, and I maintained the distance between us, bumping into the door behind me. He moved to follow, but I held out a hand, patience wearing thin. No more games, I was going to end this now, quick and painless—or painful depending upon how you looked at it.

"But," I began, hand dropping down at my side when I was sure he wouldn't venture closer, "Saito, I don't think this is going to work."

"I know the restaurant wasn't all that great this time, but I promise we'll go someplace nicer."

I just barely resisted the urge to wrap my hands around his neck and stifled a growl, releasing it in a less threatening—and crazy—sound: a sigh.

"No, I mean _us_." I made a sharp you-me gesture to illustrate my point. "I don't think we should see each other after this."

He opened his mouth to respond with yet another botched interpretation of what I'd just said, but I beat him to the punch. If there was one thing I knew after this night, it was to anticipate that no matter what I said if I didn't make it painfully clear, he would misconstrue my meaning, warping it until my true intentions were lost.

"As in, I'm not interested in taking this any further." I wanted to tack on a firm 'ever,' but I think the previous words, coupled with an unwavering gaze, were sufficient for him to get the idea; no need for overkill.

His face fell then, the truth crushing any hopes he had of a future with me. The silence around us seemed to drag on into eternity, and I inwardly cringed, coming to terms with the fact that tomorrow and the days to follow would be nothing but torture.

"So," I said, feeling behind me for the door handle, and seeking ways to draw my attention away from the situation at hand, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

The questioning lilt didn't escape my notice; there was no doubt I would see him tomorrow, because there was simply no way of avoiding it, but dammit all, I sure as hell was going to do my level best to pointedly evade possible awkward meetings with him. I just had to steer clear of all public places where he might be, which in the case of the hospital was pretty much everywhere. Don't suppose there was any way I could do my work from the bathroom?

He offered me a curt nod, and I turned my back, preoccupying myself with rummaging around in my purse for my keys. I flushed despite myself, and started searching for them with more gusto. Suppressing a victory cry, I clutched them in my hand and turned back to him, offering a small smile and a wave.

"See you tomorrow."

He gave yet another, nod and returned my gestures with their half-hearted counterparts. I shoved my key into the lock, turned it, and thrust the door open, nearly clamoring over my own two feet as I cleared the threshold. Way to seem inconspicuous. I shut the door, trying to block out speculations of what he must think of me. In the end, it didn't matter. I had no intention of having extended contact with him, if I could help it, that is. I gulped down a deep breath of air, and leaned against the door, allowing the coolness to soothe my nerves.

If I could have one wish, it would be to erase this night from existence, but such was not the way in life. Events often happened beyond our control, and all we could do was look upon them in fondness or despair. Luke's death taught me that. I shut my eyes against the warmth of tears filling my face, threatening to spill from my sealed lashes. I refused to cry—not now, not when all it has ever done for me was exacerbate the pain; tears, no matter how fervent, never brought the dead back. Despairing over the past, when I was so hell bent on moving forward with my life would not help me.

With that thought in mind, I pieced together strings of false bravado, and convinced myself to face tomorrow's fiasco with my head high, and my emotions locked up tight; a façade, but a very much needed one if I had any intentions of returning to work. After a moment's hesitation I withdrew from the solid comfort of the door, taking a deep breath to settle the turmoil raging inside. Standing here wouldn't make the break of day come any less sooner, and making fruitless wishes was not going to grant me the gift of time travel. As they say, time waits for no man, and I knew tomorrow would come, whether I wanted it to or not. Sad, but true.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay! It's been a busy couple of weeks, and I had a bit of writer's block. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha, and in no way make money from the production of this work of fiction. It's for entertainment purposes only.

 **Searching for Love, Sleeping with Danger**

Chapter 2

All was still inside the house, and I knew everyone else was asleep, and it was no wonder, it was fast approaching half past 10. It was actually far later than I had intended to stay out, which made me glad I hadn't opted for dinner and a movie. Who knows what time I would have arrived home? I stood there a moment longer before I removed my heels, taking solace in walking barefoot through the house. It served a second purpose as well; it allowed me to move freely without fear of alerting my mom, my brother Souta, or my Grandpa. Sure, it was silly to sneak around my own abode, but for some reason I felt it necessary. At all costs, I wanted to avoid any conversation that might steer towards how my date had gone.

I was over it, and I didn't want to relive any of the horrid moments. I crossed over to the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and the ice cream waiting for me. If there was ever a time I needed the comfort of the frozen treat, it was now. I crept my way up the stairs and headed down the hall to my bedroom, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Foregoing the light to the left of the doorframe, I instead, set my pint of Ben & Jerry's onto my desk, stripped down, felt my way to my robe on the back of my bathroom door, and entered, fully intent upon a shower.

Yes, I wanted nothing more than to sink into bed, but there was a fine tension stretched taut between my shoulder blades that very much needed to be relieved. I hit the light switch, cranked the water onto full blast, and climbed into the shower, thoughts taking on a bleak disposition.

How had it come to this? Why was I so unlucky in love?

I suppose it all started with Inuyasha. I had given him everything—my love, my devotion, my abilities—and yet he discarded me like a used tissue. His affection for me was fleeting, and only served as a salve for his wounded heart. After all, Kikyo—it pained me to even think of her name—was his first and only love, and everyone and everything came second to his absolute obsession with her. Although we'd spent tender moments with one another, Inuyasha still chose Kikyo over me, and that hurt more than any deep wound. Instead of raging against the cruelty of it all, I bottled up my feelings, stashing them away as I said goodbye to the Feudal Era, and the friends I'd made there, for the final time. The Well was sealed, and I was left wondering what to do with my life.

I'd spent so much time living in the past I was now uncertain how to press on with the future. I'd had hopes, dreams and aspirations before Mistress Centipede hauled me into the Well, but now all of them seemed far off, intangible, and unobtainable. It took me a while to get back on my feet, especially considering the significant gap between me and my classmates, but I pushed through, driving thoughts of my recent heartbreak from my mind, and instead fixing my sights on a career as a nurse. University followed soon after, and by that time my pain had abated to nothing but a dull and distant throb. Intent upon avoiding the anguish of yet another failed relationship, I fixed my eyes on the prize—my degree—pushing away potential suitors, and disregarding any romantic feelings I might have felt for them. Only agony awaited me along the path to love, and I didn't need yet another setback keeping me from achieving my future goals.

So, when Luke came around I was instinctively distant, cold, and unfeeling. I could not— _would_ not—let another man into my heart. I was certain it couldn't take another ounce of abuse, so I steered clear of him, cautious as ever, guard up at all times. But his persistence and charm wore on me, and his teasing was just too endearing to ignore. He was handsome to say the least, with a smile that could melt the resolve of any woman, me included. At 6'3" he was tall enough to be imposing, yet just the right height for my curves to mesh with every contour of his body. I fought my attraction to him at every turn, avoiding every opportunity to be alone with him. But fate had other ideas, and I soon found I was seeing more of him, whether it was in my classes or on campus. I mean, it made sense, after all. We were both studying for a career in the medical field and a majority of the courses were required by all concentrations. I, however, chalked it up to a higher power taking joy in tormenting me.

When Luke and I were paired up for a group assignment, it came as no surprise. It was bound to happen at some point, and what better time than when my defenses were at their weakest? Despite it all, I was pleased by this development, and though I was concerned that I might crack, falling for him harder than I'd ever fallen for another, somehow I didn't mind as much as I should have. I was right, of course, about giving into my feelings for him, but damn if I didn't care.

After all this time, I'd found true, unadulterated happiness. Our one magical first date turned into many more until we were dating on the regular, and finally a true item. Luke was everything I wanted in a man, and was the healing balm I needed to mend my broken heart. I felt whole again and my guard slipped completely, leaving me exposed, and eager to love again.

I only wished I'd kept my defenses up. Perhaps they would have lessened the blow dealt just one year after Luke's marriage proposal.

I suppose there wasn't anything especially odd about that day—it was just another quiet Sunday afternoon. Luke was on his return trip from his parents' house; in fact he'd called early that morning to let me know he was leaving. I was reluctant to get out of bed and instead remained there, basking in the morning sunlight peeking through the curtains, warming me from head to toe.

At a quarter to 11 I rolled out of bed, hair poking at odd angles on my head, daring me to wrestle with the nest of knots and curls my tresses had wound themselves into last night. After a shower and breakfast, I drove to the Shrine, intent upon helping Gramps with the chores, and assisting my mom in the kitchen. By the time 1 o'clock hit, I had organized an old storeroom, cleaned last night's dishes, washed and folded a load of laundry, and helped my mom prepare lunch.

Worry settled in a tight knot at the base of my stomach, growing with each second that ticked by. I reached for my phone, fingers itching to dial Luke's number, but I hesitated, setting it down on a nearby table and joining my family for lunch. He was driving and I wanted him here safe and sound. I'd just finished my food when the house phone rang. I moved to answer it, but my mom stopped me, a gentle hand on my shoulder, coaxing me back into a sitting position.

"I'll get it dear," she said, and took a few brisk steps to the far wall.

She picked up the receiver with a customary "Higurashi Residence," and paused, listening to the person on the other line. I turned away, starting to clear my dishes, as well as Gramps' and Souta's from the table. Really those two could be such slobs sometimes, always eager to get out of housework that didn't involve their own rooms (in Souta's case), or the Shrine (in Gramps' case). By the time I'd traveled the short distance from the table to the sink, my mom had hung up, her features drawn tight into an expression I could only describe as forlorn.

"What's wrong?" I joined her by the phone, eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Her eyes shifted from the spot they had settled on, and rested on my face. That's when I saw the start of tears shimmering, brimming and on the brink of spilling.

"Oh, Kagome . . ." She gathered me into the tightest hug she'd given me since dad died, which left me with a strong sense of unease.

She stroked my hair, and her entire frame shook with suppressed sobs. I clung to her, not knowing what else to do, waiting patiently for her to reveal the reason for her tears. She withdrew, wiping at her eyes which still shone with remnants of her sorrow, and shot me a solemn gaze that rattled me to the core.

"It's Luke . . ." she said at last, and the world seemed to tilt violently, stealing my proper balance and throwing me against a nearby counter.

"Tell me he's okay," I said, my voice weak, and distant. "Tell me he's coming home."

My mom looked away for a moment, and after a deep, shuddering breath, shook her head.

"No, no . . . There was . . . an accident . . ."

My hands were in my hair, tugging at the strands, trying to make sense of the news being delivered. My knees gave out on me, and I collapsed at the base of the counter, trembling, eyes unseeing as they filled with an endless stream of tears. My mom joined me there, gathering me tight to her breast and rocking me slowly, her own tears spilling into my hair just beneath her chin. Ages melted into millennia, leaving me unsure of how long my mom and I sat there wallowing in shared despair, swallowing deep sobs, and just trying to make sense of it all.

Only after a lucid calm had settled over me, interrupted by the occasional hiccup, did my mind start to deny the severity of the situation. Just because Luke had been in an accident did not mean it was a fatal one. As long as he was alive and well, minus a few injuries, there was no real reason to think the worst. I was determined to believe this, imagining in my mind's eye Luke dressed in bandages and lying in a hospital bed, his trademark grin marred only by a deep cut and some bruising on the right side of his face. I clung to this image, hoping against hope that it would turn out to be a reality.

Even still, as I clung desperately to the conjured images in my head, something in me knew that wishful thinking would fail in this circumstance. This seed of doubt obscured the optimistic picture I had painted myself, darkness eating away at the edges as it drifted further and further away from my grasp. My gut wrenched in anguish, as my mind turned over the infinite number of worst-case-scenarios, none of them pleasant and all of them terrifying.

I gulped down a short burst of air and withdrew from my mom's embrace, steeling myself against more devastating news.

"What happened to him, mom?"

She dabbed at her eyes with her apron, and sat there clutching the end, eyes fixed on her lap. After several moments she returned her gaze to mine, a newfound strength there.

"Luke was about 20 minutes away from here, when a driver ran a red light, struck the driver's side of his car, crushing and—" she paused, wringing her hands in her apron, "—killing him . . ."

The last was uttered on the tail end of a sob, which was quickly followed by a burst of tears. I shut my eyes against the image of Luke's tragic end as droplets of my own sorrow started to flow once more. This time however the flow was endless as the finality of it all hit me square in the chest. He was gone—he was really gone. My whole body ached with the implications of his untimely death, stiffening my muscles, yet at the same time setting my mind racing. The thought of him never returning home, of never being able to hold him in my arms again . . . it was just all too much to process in that one singular moment.

So I let myself cry, allowing the evidence of my despair to wash away all the overly optimistic hope I'd had. My one light and joy had been taken from me, stripping away the last of my defenses, leaving me bare and exposed. I curled myself into a tight ball, drawing my knees to my chest, shaking with sobs and ruining the knees of my jeans. But I didn't care. All I wanted in that moment was to see Luke again, to tell him how I felt, to lay with him and plan our future together like we'd always intended to do.

A shiver passed through me as I thought of all that could've been, but now, because of an unfortunate twist of fate, could no longer be, rage boiling just beneath the surface of my skin. It just wasn't fair! Why him? Why did it have to be Luke? Why was my happiness always stripped away from me? As my anger intensified, so did my malice toward the careless person that had caused this mess. I found myself hating a stranger, wishing ill will upon them for having caused me such pain. I knew it wasn't right, but damn if I didn't care. If I was to suffer upon this Earth because of the reckless actions of another, then they could stand to suffer equally as much, if not more so.

I drew in a deep breath, bringing with it an eerie calm that loosened my limbs, and cleared my mind. As much as I yearned for a swift delivery of punishment to be dealt to the one who had taken my Luke away from me, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Luke's parents had to be notified. The thought alone was terrifying enough to keep me rooted to the spot. Heaven knows they would take it that much harder than I had, and I was certain I could not stand to be the one to deliver the news, not when I was still reeling from the blow myself.

To hear Luke's parents break down over the loss of their son would shatter what little resolve I had managed to dredge up in the wake of my ire. I knew if I started crying again, there would be no end to it; the waves of sorrow would take over, and the likelihood of recovering and attempting to move on with my life would be damn near impossible. Loss was like a disease that crippled the mind and body, hollowing a person out until there was little to nothing left of their being. Only a shadow of that person's former self would remain, and they would go about their lives merely existing.

I didn't want that, but my sense of duty to Luke's parents would have none of that, and it was that single-minded, responsible purpose that drove me to my feet and the short distance to the cordless phone. I reached across the counter for the receiver, storing a gulp of breath in my lungs as I prepared for the worst. I didn't realize my hand was shaking until I felt my mom's warm palm against its clammy surface. I looked to her pain-filled eyes, knowing we shared the same anguished expression, and back to the phone clutched loosely in my hands.

"I'll tell them," she said simply, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before taking the phone from me.

She withdrew her hand from mine, and I allowed it to drop to my side, lifelessly, relief settling my raging thoughts, and easing some of the tension locked tight between my shoulder blades. Gratitude warmed my face, and I was once again flush with tears. I felt so powerless in such a crucial moment. As much I didn't like it, allowing my mom to deliver the news to Mr. and Mrs. Huang made me feel that much better. With this sense of ease came an overwhelming fatigue that could not be ignored, settling like a deep, penetrating ache that affected my bones, and placed tiny weights upon my eyelids.

Maybe this was all just some sick, twisted dream my mind had conjured up to rattle me, and I would wake up moments later back in my bed in my apartment, awaiting Luke's arrival. I stumbled my way to the couch, sank into its aged cushions and held onto this idea like a beacon to stave off the darkness that was swelling up inside me, threatening to consume. If all of this was a dream, I simply had to ride out the worst of it until I was roused from my slumber.

I foolishly held onto this notion, that is, until I had to identify Luke's body at the morgue.

Prior to that, I'd floated through the events leading up to this key moment, detached and distant, clutching my little flame of hope close to my breast. As long as I didn't react to all that was going on around me, I would be fine. Dreams could be painful, but nothing hurt worse than reality. The latter was a nightmare you couldn't wake up from, and there was no way to undo the truth it presented, good or bad.

My mom drove me to the morgue after filling Souta and Gramps in about what had happened. They offered me kind words and warm embraces, but I remained steadfast in my belief that this was all some trick played upon me by my mind. To anyone I appeared the perfect picture of a woman in grief, all numb, silent, and hollow, and I suppose in some ways I had been. No one knew I had steeped myself so deep into a pool of denial that I refused to acknowledge the facts even as they played out in front of me.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the city morgue, and met Luke's parents there. I offered them physical comfort when no words were forthcoming; they wouldn't help ease anyone's pain anyway. I'd only known Shiori and Satoshi Huang for a short time, but I knew them to be strong individuals, appearing unmovable even in the face of calamity. Not that I expected them to be any less affected by news of Luke's accident, I just hadn't expected them to seem so . . . faded. There was really no other way to put it. They appeared as though they'd been run through the wash one too many times, leaving them bleached of color, pallor put in stark contrast with hollows, and dark circles I hadn't recalled being there before. Shiori's petite form was dwarfed by Satoshi's taller, lanky one, and she clung to him, knuckles white and eyes cast to some far off place. I wondered if I too looked as they did, but quickly dismissed the thought, and instead headed our group to entrance of the building and through the automatic doors.

Once inside, Satoshi gave his name to the desk attendant and we were led by an examiner to a room on the basement level full of stainless steel drawers that no doubt housed the bodies of others. He led us towards the back of the room, and we waited as he consulted a chart with a list of names on them.

"Huang, is it?" He adjusted his glasses on his face, expression somber, and complexion pale beneath the rays of fluorescent lights beaming down on us.

Mrs. Huang nodded, clutching her husband's hand, before leaning into his chest for moral support. I stood there, a little set back from the others, watching the scene play out before me in slow motion. The examiner approached a drawer on the right, pulled it out, and with a silent nod beckoned us over. We all ventured closer, proceeding with all the caution of a prey anticipating the ambush of a nearby predator. I followed behind my mother, inadvertently using my mother's back as a shield meant to protect me from the harsh image of the reality I refused to acknowledge. As much as I wanted to be there for Luke's parents, I also wanted to continue to dwell in the hope-filled fantasies my mind saw fit to conjure up.

My mom and Luke's parents gathered in a small semi-circle around the drawer, and I kept my distance allowing them to obscure my view. A moment of silence passed followed by the hiss of a sheet being carefully removed. Two gasps perforated the air, followed by a deep sob coming from Mrs. Huang. She thrust herself into her husband's arms, clutching him tight as she started to wail wordlessly. My mom looked away, shoulders hunched. Without looking, I knew she was crying as well. With Luke's mom no longer part of the semi-circle, I caught a glimpse of the body just a few feet away. I swallowed hard, forcing myself closer; it was the only way I could confirm if all that had happened in such a short span of time was real.

Several hesitant steps later brought me within view of the truth I'd sought.

Breathless and weak were the only words I could use to describe how I'd felt in that moment. With Luke's body lying in front of me, there was no way to deny, no way to not see it. He was dead and gone, and no matter of wishful thinking could change that. He was so pale, skin appearing translucent beneath the scrutiny of the lights above. His shoulder length, black hair, hung freely, appearing washed out, and lacking the usual luster I had remembered. And on identical sides of his lower torso, there were bruises speckled in black, blue and green hues, bisected by a railroad of stitches and staples.

I couldn't even bring myself to look at his face, not full on at least. I was so terribly afraid these gruesome images of him would haunt me, and overshadow the memories I had of him when he was still alive. The last shook me to the core, and I turned away, face already saturated by tears I didn't remember shedding. I fumbled away, gaining some much needed distance from the scene, eyes screwed shut to block out the sickening movie reel of Luke's corpse playing over and over again in my mind. I found myself on the floor, back to the nearest free wall, body awash in uncontrollable tremors. I brought my knees to my chest, clutching them to me to stop myself from shaking, but it was no use. Nothing I did could put an end to it. In that moment, all that I'd hoped, all that I'd dreamed would be, vanished.

What future did I have to look forward to now?

My mother came to me shortly after, joining me on the floor much like she had in the kitchen, and gathered me into a tight embrace, strong enough to offer me the comfort I so desperately needed.

The days that followed whirred by faster than anyone could imagine, and before I knew it, Luke was buried, and I was returning to a cold and empty apartment.

It was the strangest experience, really, returning there with the knowledge that never again would I share precious memories with my beloved again. The walls seemed to be saturated with snippets of joy long since passed, and that hurt more than the past few days combined. It left me feeling empty, hollow, and lonely, and no matter of kind words could remove the stinging pain of his loss. Whenever I was there alone, my mind would drift off to dark places which even now frighten me. I contemplated things I'd never thought my mind could fall victim to, which is why I elected to move back home with my family for safety and sanity reasons.

In this, I hoped to find the will to move on with my life, but no such strength was forthcoming, and so I moped around, and took a leave of absence from school, because I sincerely lacked the drive to move forward. I was stuck in limbo, and I didn't know how to get out, not without help, that is.

Thank goodness for Souta. Had it not been for him, I would still be lounging about in the living room until 4 in the afternoon in my pajamas, ignoring the vicious pull of an empty stomach.

On that day, he'd found me on the couch as described above, staring at the TV screen with unseeing eyes.

"Hey, Sis. Mom is making Oden tonight, wanna help?"

I pulled my knees to my chest and shook my head, burying my face in the crease they created. The TV went black and I realized he must have turned it off. As weary as I was, I didn't have the heart to chew him out, and so I remained as I was, studying the insides of my eyelids, and trying so very hard not to think.

The couch dipped as he joined me, but I refused to acknowledge his presence. If I ignored him long enough he would go away; it worked every other time I'd done it, and I didn't see any reason why it wouldn't now. However, Souta refused to be shut out, and so he took me by both shoulders and fixed me with one of the most livid expressions I'd ever seen him pull. Naturally, his touch drew my attention to him, and I was startled into silence.

"Dammit, Kags," he said, shaking me a bit after his words. "When are you going to wake up? You're wasting away and the worst thing about it is you're just letting it happen."

He dropped his hands from my shoulders and I let out a breath as though a great weight had been lifted from me. He dropped his gaze a moment, before returning it to my face, some of the edge from before melting away to reveal a gentle sincerity.

"What happened to the Kagome I remember, the one that overcame every obstacle thrown at her, and finally graduated high school, huh? Or the Kagome that used to tell me to follow my dreams no matter what? Where has _that_ Kagome gone? As far as I can tell, she's nowhere to be found."

My face flushed and I opened my mouth, a retort burning at the tip of my tongue, but Souta would have none of that.

"I know what you're going to say, so save it. It's no excuse to give up on life, Kags."

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair before offering me a look of pity.

"It's a shame really. You were just one semester away from graduating University with a BSN, and now look. At the rate you're going, I'll have graduated before you and moved on with my life."

He stood then, grabbing the remote and switching the TV back on.

After a pause he said, "Dinner will be done in an hour. Enjoy your show."

I stared after him, in utter shock at his words. Had I really been wasting away like he said? I knew the answer I just wasn't in the right sort of mind to readily admit it just yet. Yes, his words cut me deep, but they were also the push I needed to forge ahead. After all, just like before Inuyasha, before Luke, I'd had hopes and dreams and a future to work towards. Even if now I had to alter my future plans and goals, omitting the parts that involved Luke, there were still things I wished to accomplish in this life, and graduating from school with a Nursing degree was one of them.

At the very least, Luke would have wanted that for me.

So in two months, I was able to get myself back on track. I graduated at last, feeling fulfilled and that much better about myself for having taken control of my life again. Even though I was working as a Phlebotomist at the local hospital, and it was not where I wanted to be in the scheme of things, it nonetheless gave me a reason to strive for better.

At age 27, I never expected to be living at home with my family, floundering in a dead-end job, and seeking prospects for love. Most women my age were settled down and married, working the job of their dreams, or at least close to landing one.

But hey, who was I to complain? Such was life, after all. Circumstances could always be changed, for better or for worse. Luke's passing taught me that. And besides, if I truly worked on each of the former aspects, eventually I could create a better life for myself. But such feats could only be accomplished one step at a time.

After twenty minutes, I shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel to stave off the chill in the small space. Using the light from the bathroom as a guide, I turned my desk lamp on and proceeded to dry myself off before donning a pair of pajamas and clamoring into bed, pint of ice cream in hand. I finished what was left of the sweet treat, feeling as empty as the carton.

Yes, things had not turned out as I would have liked, and yes, I was working to change that, but at the same time, a setback like tonight's date made me all the more eager to give up and settle for the hand life had dealt me.

Surely I could live in peace and refrain from complaining too much if I didn't exactly have everything I wanted, right?

I frowned at that knowing full well the notion was impossible. There was always room for improvement, but some things took precedence over others. Like love for instance. Maybe I wasn't 100 percent ready to start up a new relationship, but the least I could do was get myself out there.

I sighed and rose from my wrinkled bedspread to toss out the ice cream carton and to shut off my desk lamp. Darkness flooded the room instantly, leaving me momentarily blind to my surroundings as my eyes adjusted to the lack of illumination. Proceeding with caution, I made it to my bed, sliding beneath the sheets, intent upon getting as much rest as I possible. Tomorrow was another day, one I hoped to get through with little incident.


End file.
